Gaius Vibulenus shook his head firmly, and turned to Trumbull.

“No, Commodore,” he said in his heavily accented English. “I do not recognize them. Not specifically. They are the same species as the-we just called them the ‘frogs.’ Or the ‘toads.’ ”

The Roman looked back at the viewscreen. His eyes were now focused on the corpse of the Voivode. A Confederation Marine lieutenant was holding the creature’s head up.

“And I cannot say that I recognize him, either. He is the same type as the Guild Commander who murdered Helvius and the others, yes. But whether he is the same individual-”

Gaius shrugged. “You must understand, Commodore, that we saw many intelligent species while we served the trading guild. But never very many different individuals of any one species. So they all looked much the same to us. Bizarre.”

From behind them, Quartilla spoke. “I recognize him. The dead one, I mean.”

Everyone on the bridge turned toward her.

“You’re sure?” asked the Commodore.

Quartilla nodded. “Oh, yes. His species call themselves Rassiqua. Their body shapes and-call them ‘faces’-are difficult for others to distinguish between, but each of them has a quite distinct pattern of skin mottling.” She pointed at the corpse being held up before the viewscreen. “This one has a-”

She leaned over to the historian standing next to her, gesturing with her agile plump hands. “What do you call this, Robert-a thing with six sides?”

Robert Ainsley frowned for a moment, tugging at his gray-streaked professorial beard, before he understood her question.